Tipsy
by moor
Summary: Mod AU. MadaSaku. The first of the "5 Drunkfics" prompts. Madara's extra special super fantastic totally not under the influence birthday party!


5drunkfics: pick your poison  
Author: **beyondthemoor** (on LJ); moor (on this website)  
Fandom: Naruto  
Claim: MadaSaku (Madara x Sakura)  
Genre: Crack / Non-Massacre / Modern AU  
Rating: T, for now

**AN: This was written well over a year or so ago, posted to my LJ. Posting here for your amusement. ; ) The list of the "5 Drunkfics" prompts is at the bottom of the story. I may make a few more of these, time-permitting. As it stands, this is currently a (very silly) one-shot. Enjoy**!

* * *

**1. Tipsy**

It took everything in him to hold back his glare that evening as he watched her in her room, preparing for her evening out.  
Abandoning him, leaving him to the mercy of whatever Gods still existed, if any.  
He wanted to scream at her, but most of all, he wanted to beg her to stay.  
Uchiha Itachi was absolutely seething.  
And the only thing holding him back from unleashing all seven levels of Hell upon her inconsiderate, selfish, if delicate skull was because she was the one person he could never, ever hope to defeat.  
Or even intimidate.  
"Now, Itachi, it's just this once," chided Uchiha Mikoto. She carefully wound her long, silky dark hair around her hand and pinned it up artfully into a perfect French twist, glancing in front of her to meet his furious, crimson eyes in the mirror.  
_His mother._  
"We've talked about this; he's unstable, he's dangerous, he's violent, he's unpredictable, he's-."  
"He's family, and you will treat him as such," she said firmly.  
"He's a lunatic and tried to kill Sasuke once because he thought his eyes were too pretty to be on a boy."  
Mikoto's hand wavered in her make-up application, but she soldiered on. "We've spoken about that, Itachi, it was an accident-."  
"He tore apart the house looking for blades and settled on raiding your sewing kit when he realized we'd locked everything else up."  
"And we've adjusted his medication accordingly," assured Mikoto confidently.  
_"To the point where I doubt he'll even remember attending," _he thought he heard her mutter under her breath. But that couldn't be; Uchiha Mikoto would never deign to mutter.  
Itachi narrowed his eyes.  
"I've taken plenty of extra precautions, anyway. The only non-family members, family of which, I remind you, every member serves on the Konoha Military Police, who'll be joining us for the annual Christmas party are some of Sasuke's friends. They're all from his initial intake year at the military academy. I think two of them may still be in his platoon, in the Special Forces. I doubt they'll have any problems; they can take care of themselves, darling. You have nothing to worry about," she repeated.  
With that she stood, and Itachi held out the delicate shawl she wrapped around her shoulders for the evening.  
The picture of elegance, Mikoto smiled up at her oldest child and cupped his cheek in her hand.  
"And Itachi, I know you'd never let anything happen to anyone anyway. I trust you."  
The esteemed heir of the Uchiha clan wanted nothing more than to ram his prestigious head through the nearest wall at her words.

* * *

Uchiha Madara was very excited.  
Very, very, very excited.  
So excited he thought he'd—  
…Oops, no, he promised Mikoto he wouldn't do that tonight…  
But still!  
Very, very excited.  
It was December 24th, and that meant!  
That meant!  
That meant it was _his birthday_!  
He would have rubbed his hands together with glee if he thought he'd be able to coordinate or feel them. (He'd have to talk to Mikoto about that in the morning if it hadn't subsided. Perhaps his Special Candy was acting strangely again?)  
And after being very, very good (he'd been such a good boy!), for the past while, he'd finally gotten one of his wishes.  
He was going to have a birthday party.  
A big, loud, gigantic party with lots of friends and food and presents and all kinds of specialness. Just for him.  
Not that he remembered having any friends, ever.  
But Mikoto had assured him she'd taken care of it and had invited the entire family.  
He felt very special.  
It was going to be HIS night!  
… even if he wasn't allowed to have any sparkly alcohol.  
Which was a shame – he'd been really looking forward to having a drink. It had been far, far too long, in his opinion. But Mikoto had made him promise to be a good boy, and good boys don't go on benders, because that will upset the Special Candy in his tummy, and he wouldn't want to get sick, would he? Of course not.  
Not on his very special day.  
Not even a teensy, tiny, never-even-notice-it-was-gone sip would he take.  
Really.  
Madara smiled a bit loopily to himself and, with a flounce of his black cloak, sashayed from his prison cell—er, bedroom—in the direction of the holiday-themed music.  
His guests awaited him!

* * *

Sasuke glared at his elder brother, much in the same fashion that Itachi had longed to do towards their mother earlier that evening.  
"You're shitting me," growled the younger, his hand pausing half-way with the bottle to his lips.  
"I would never joke about this. Keep your eyes-," Itachi paused. 'Peeled' would be in incredibly poor taste, in this case. "—on your friends. They're the only ones Madara may not recognize. And he likes to know he's the center of attention, so he'll want to meet them like a proper host and 'welcome' them properly to the family. He probably thinks this party is for him."  
"Why?"  
"It is, technically, his birthday."  
Sasuke choked.  
"You're shitting me. How old is he, anyway?"  
"Don't make me take your language up with-."  
"Fine, whatever. I'll tell Naruto and Sakura-."  
Itachi's eyes widened. "Sakura?"  
Sasuke gave his brother a look, and sensing danger, together they moved further away from the rest of the encroaching Uchihas.

Safely huddled in an alcove away from the main crowds, Itachi turned back to his younger brother again. "You didn't mention you were bringing a girl home—this is disastrous. Call her and tell her to go back." Immediately he started looking around for the nearest phone extension, and cursed when he saw the cradle was empty. Damned useless cordless wonders, always going missing. He patted his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Here."  
But Sasuke was having none of it, and smacked the phone away.  
"What? No! She and Naruto are my family. Neither of them have parents to spend the holidays with—Sakura's folks passed away a few months back, and Naruto always comes here for Christmas! God, what kind of a dick are you, Itachi?"  
Whirling around, Itachi glared hard at Sasuke.  
"This girl-."  
"Sakura," growled Sasuke. "She has a name, and it is Sakura."  
"Can she defend herself? Physically? Please tell me she isn't attractive. That would be awful. Is she squat and bad-tempered, or deformed? He may not be interested then. You haven't mentioned dating her, so there must be something wrong with her-."  
A very feminine clearing-of-voice occurred directly behind Itachi at that moment.  
"This is private family business," said Itachi in his Authoritative Heir Tone, ignoring the individual.  
His second mistake.  
He made to take a step closer to Sasuke—who'd started backing away from his brother's mounting panic, slowly—but felt a polite tap on his shoulder.  
"Excuse me," she began.  
Itachi just wasn't himself that night. Anxiety, and being perhaps just a bit tipsy, did that to an overstressed man like him.  
Forgetting his manners completely, he turned to glare daggers at the woman who'd dared to interrupt his private conversation—  
"Go away, I'm not interested in your room key or helping you 'look' for your contact lens which fell out on your chest or-," his voice escaped him at the stunning beauty before him.  
He was struck dumb—first, by the glittering, short, fitted dress the striking, young, glowingly healthy, pink-haired woman was wearing—  
-And second, by the brutal right shook she rocketed into his jaw, hard enough to spin him on his heels and knock him to the ground.  
_While she's wearing 4-inch heels, no less,_ his malfunctioning, if incredibly impressed, mind processed.  
Before he slumped to the ground and closed his eyes.  
A nap, just for a few minutes, would be heavenly.  
Screw the family for a night.  
Sasuke looked between them a moment—from his unconscious brother on the floor, to his flushed, heaving teammate across from him.  
"You're a few minutes late. The Dobe arrived half an hour ago."  
"Yeah, well, a certain supply clerk conveniently 'lost' my locker key after the Squadron's Family Christmas party this afternoon, so I wasn't able to change after my shift as one of Santa's elves," she huffed, crossing her hands across her chest. Eyes glaring off in the distance at something—or someone—only she could see, she mumbled, "Stupid Genma…."  
"Don't do that, it, uh, makes them worse," he advised awkwardly, trying not to stare.  
Automatically she dropped her hands stiffly to her sides, her anger brightening her blush.  
"I'm about a quarter inch away from an unintentional wardrobe malfunction, and that's all you can say!"  
A quarter of an inch was being very generous, from what Sasuke could see of her body-shaping-enhanced bosoms. Not that he was complaining. But this was the Uchiha family Christmas party; 'standards' was a loose enough term, but there were some things that wouldn't go unpunished. His inviting guests who dressed like Santa's Fairytale Prostitutes would be one of them.  
"Let's see if we can borrow one of Mom's shawls. And maybe some flats."  
That mellowed her, slightly. "Thank you."  
He kept eyeing her strangely as they left Itachi sprawled on the floor.  
"Did they do your make-up, too?"  
"Yes, why? I honestly haven't even had a chance to look at it, we were so busy."  
Someone had obviously set the Make-Over gun one setting away from 'whore', that's what.  
His eyes focused on the backdoor route to his family's personal living quarters in the sprawling mansion as they walked, and soon enough they climbed the stairs, leaving the lights dimmed or off so as not to attract attention from the other guests. Especially one particular attendee.  
"Let's see if you can freshen up a bit, too. Mom would be happy to know she was able to help make you more comfortable."  
There was a slight pause before Sakura's shoulders relaxed, and she sighed.  
"Thank you, Sasuke," she smiled slightly. Her first holiday since her folks passed away was difficult enough. She didn't need to feel even more uncomfortable in another's home.  
And he could sense that. "Hn."  
The thick carpeting muffled their footsteps, and he was grateful.  
If they were really lucky, they'd find a nice 1978 leisure suit she could wear—and possibly a kendo-men.  
His brother's old bogu had to be around here somewhere….

* * *

With bright crimson eyes, he surveyed the party covertly from the mezzanine above. Below him, he noticed a blond head peeking out amidst a sea of black, and wondered who this special guest was.  
Then he was joined by one of his relatives—the dark hair was unmistakable—and…  
Madara's eyes gleamed.  
A new guest to his party!

* * *

With the soft, black silk shawl across her shoulders (and shimmering black fitted trousers beneath the silver sparkling cocktail dress), her face washed and her make-up much, much more natural looking, Sakura and Sasuke re-joined the party. She'd traded her heels for flat sandals, and her aching calves thanked her—and Mikoto, a thousand blessings on her head—for it. As they reached Naruto, Sakura and the blond shared a quick hug, and teasing laugh at her dress, before each reaching for a glass of wine from the table.  
"Man, you guys really go all out for this—there's even a live band this year!"  
"It's a special event… we have some important relative joining us this year," Sasuke growled, glancing around. "Actually, I need to speak to you two alone for a second about that, c'mon, over here."  
Naruto and Sakura glanced at each other, full of questions, when out of the corner of her eye, Sakura caught a hint of movement, and she grabbed her boys by their lapels and dragged them out of the way, all three glancing back in the direction she was staring.  
-Just in time to see Madara leap to the top of the mezzanine banister, cloak swirling around him, high-pitched laughter echoing eerily around the ballroom.  
The music died and a few gasps were heard as everyone looked up at the masked Uchiha.  
_"Oh for the love of ninjutsu…." _  
Sasuke held back a very feeling groan.  
The man hovered like a god above them, before waving like a hyperactive child.  
"I'd like to welcome everyone tonight!"  
_Shit, shit, shit, shit,…. _Thought Sasuke frantically. _Where's Itachi?_  
"Especially you, pretty lady!"  
_Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…._  
Madara's hands went to the edges of his cape.  
"Thank you for coming to my sexy party-!"  
Sensing what was coming, Naruto was already taking precautionary measures to protect their 'sister's' virgin eyes.  
"Sakura, cover your peepers!" Naruto yelled, already clamping his fingers over her face.  
"Naruto-_mph!_"  
Sure enough, the surprised choking, gagging noises from the crowd clued her in to exactly what Madara had done.  
And if it hadn't, Naruto's next words sure did.  
"So, is that a family tradition, Sasuke, or did your parents decide differently for you & Itachi?"  
Through Naruto's bear-hands on her head, Sakura felt the throttling Sasuke gave Naruto.  
"Aw, let her see!" Madara cried plaintively. "I like the pretty lady. Sasuke-chan, is she my present? She's all wrapped up in sparkles!"  
Sakura missed the look of sick horror that bloomed across Sasuke's face.  
But Sakura's hearing was perfectly fine.  
Unfortunately.  
"WHAT?!"

* * *

**AN: Here's the full list of prompts:**

1. Tipsy  
2. Drunk  
3. Forget  
4. Confessions  
5. Mistakes

_**November 2012.**_


End file.
